


6 - 0 BBY, Tatooine & Elsewhere

by jukeboxgraduate



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Pre-Rogue One, dialogue-heavy, seriously i worked so hard on the timelines here, vague mentions of sex work???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:08:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23400613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jukeboxgraduate/pseuds/jukeboxgraduate
Summary: "Do you not trust me?""I could ask you the same," Han says."I don't have to trust you," Cassian says simply. Han looks away from Cassian's eyes, his gaze falling to Cassian's bruised knuckles. No, Cassian doesn't have to trust him.
Relationships: Cassian Andor/Han Solo
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	6 - 0 BBY, Tatooine & Elsewhere

**Author's Note:**

> this could probably also have a title like “six times han and cassian hooked up and one time they didn’t” but alas.
> 
> for someone who hates writing dialogue i really do write a lot of dialogue.
> 
> shoutout to andrew for unknowingly motivating me to actually finish this.

6 BBY, Tatooine

"You look like a man who doesn't know where he is," a voice rumbles in Cassian's ear. Cassian turns to face it, slowly. Some young man, not the man he’s supposed to be looking for. This one is too young, too Corellian. Not the fine-featured and neatly-groomed man whose face he's painfully studied for days.

"I'm perfectly oriented, thank you," Cassian says, and turns away. 

"Three men have propositioned you in the last hour. And you're still here. What are you up to?" The man's shirt is slightly open and he leans against the bar with his ankles crossed. He appraises Cassian shamelessly but harmlessly. 

"What makes you think you'll be any different than the last three?" Cassian asks. The man's eyebrows twitch so quickly that a lock of his hair falls in his eyes. 

"What makes you think I'm propositioning you?" 

Cassian turns around to face him entirely. He's tall, probably a head taller than Cassian, but their eyes are level as he leans on the bar and Cassian stands upright. His hair is floppy and his face is just beginning to line, but also seems to have only just filled out. He can't be much older than Cassian. 

"What do you want?" Cassian asks. The last three men had been easy to send off, even the one who had forced a hand under Cassian's arm. 

"To sate my curiosity."

“I’m just waiting for someone," Cassian says. Not a lie, but the man seems to think it is. 

"Well," the man drawls, not believing it, "if he stands you up, my name's Han. I’ll be around." 

"Alright." 

Han squints at him and then rolls his eyes. 

"Alright," Han echoes, and straightens up, turns on his heel, and walks away. Cassian shakes his head and returns to combing through the faces of patrons. He prays he hasn't missed one of his mark's notoriously brief appearances.

*

Han lifts his eyes from his drink and looks around the cantina again. The usual soup of familiarly unfamiliar faces flows through the place like always, half in shadow. He's not looking for anyone, not tonight. He just wanted to sit down somewhere with a drink and not have to think about his blaster. There's only one kind of cantina on Tatooine where he can do that. 

His eyes come back to a shape sitting alone at a small table against the wall. A small frame, but a sturdy one, one that claimed to be waiting for someone the night before - though Han hadn’t seen him meet anyone or leave the cantina - he had gotten distracted by some other young man who approached him. 

Lingering strangers are not unusual in places like this - special little cantinas in trading towns - but the man is fascinating and Han cannot explain why, nor can he control himself.

Han finishes his drink and gets up, sidestepping through the crowd, and drops himself into a chair at the man’s table. 

"You're back," Han says to the man - who is really more of a boy - who looks mildly disturbed. "Waiting on someone again?" 

He stares at Han for a moment, dark sleepy-looking eyes staring into him with surprising sharpness.

"Do you need something?" He asks. His voice is accented, something Atrivisian that Han can't quite identify. 

"No, no. I'm just curious," Han sits back in his chair.

"Do you not have other places to be?" 

“No. I'm here until I decide to leave," Han says. "Say, kid, have you got a name?" 

The man stares at him again and sets down his drink. His face is hard in expression, mature and sturdy, but it hardly suits his face. He looks at least a couple years away from growing into his face still. His cheeks and jaw are rounded and incomplete, but threatening to narrow out any day. 

"Cassian." 

"Alright _Cassian_ ," Han says, knowing a fake name when he gets one, and Cassian's eyes glimmer like he's holding back a laugh, "can I ask you a question?" Cassian stares at him and Han folds his hands on the table. “Who are you waiting on? Maybe I know him." 

"I'm sorry?" 

“Who are you looking for?" Han asks. Cassian crosses his arms over his chest. "Maybe I can help." 

"No," Cassian says. 

"Listen," Han begins. Cassian leans forward quickly on his elbows, narrow wrists framing his untouched drink. 

" _You_ listen. I don't need your help. Or your company."

"Well - " 

"Please let me work," Cassian says, and the stillness in his eyes is enough to send Han on his way. 

"Alright, alright," Han raises his hands and stands up. "See you around." 

Cassian shakes his head. 

Han returns to his table. He watches Cassian watch the door. A young man who works for someone Han worked for, whose name he can't remember, comes to stand in front of Han and make uneasy small talk, as if testing the waters. He's handsome, but not interesting, and likely too young to be working in any civilized place - but Tatooine is not civilized, so there he is. 

"I'm just here for a drink. Long day, you know how it is,” Han says, hoping he'll go away. The guy shrugs and agrees, lingers for a second, and then walks off. Han shakes his head and mutters to himself about how there are too many damn kids in these places.

Han stares ahead for a moment, then stares at his drink, then remembers he was watching Cassian. He looks back and Cassian's table is empty. 

Han resigns to playing cards. 

*

Han almost jumps as someone slides into his booth across the table. He moves his hand away from his blaster as Cassian straightens up and rests his forearms on the table. 

"What happened to you?" Han asks. Cassian's cheekbone is bruised, he has a shallow cut through his brow. He's visibly strung out on some leftover adrenaline that he miraculously manages to contain. 

"Work," Cassian says simply. Han's eyes narrow. 

"Are you working now?" 

"No." Cassian says. He picks up his drink, something small and dark. His fingers are freshly swollen and some of his knuckles are raw. "Are you?" 

"No."

"What /is/ your work, Han...?" 

“Solo. I do what people need me to," Han says. 

"For who?” Cassian asks. The question falls on the table like something heavy and wet. It always does, and it’s always Rebels who ask him. Now is the time for Han to back out. He learned quickly not to get caught up with Rebels. They're plenty of fun, sure, but always running off back to their cause before Han can catch his breath. 

"Whoever pays for it. I don't take sides." 

"Everyone takes a side."

"Yeah, well, not me, kid. That's some Rebel nonsense." 

"You seem to like Rebel nonsense well enough,” Cassian says, the corner of his mouth catching as he says it. Han sighs - Cassian is right.

"Not that kind."

Cassian's dark eyes sparkle even in the dim light. Cassian's foot lightly kicks Han's toe under the table.

"I've got a ship," Han offers. He should know better, but he feels like he's hurtling through space on some trajectory he has no choice but to follow. Cassian meets his eyes. 

"Me too," Cassian says. Han's eyes narrow and Cassian tilts his head. "Do you not trust me?" 

"I could ask you the same," Han says.

"I don't have to trust you," Cassian says simply. Han looks away from Cassian's eyes, his gaze falling to Cassian's bruised knuckles. No, Cassian doesn't have to trust him. Cassian sighs. "Your ship is fine." 

Cassian stands up and Han blinks fast.

"Then lead the way," Cassian says expectantly. His build is slight under his clothes. Up close his waist and hips are smaller than the layers make him look. He still looks so boyish, a hair away from finishing growing into his proportions. "Well?" 

"Yeah, yeah," Han says. He gets up, realizing he nearly has to look down at Cassian to see his face. Cassian is unbothered and turns toward the door. 

"Now hold on," Han says as they step out into the street, "I don't wanna be the second guy you kill tonight -" Cassian looks at him with preemptive exhaustion, " - but am I getting charged for this?" 

"No. That's not what I do."

"Then what /do/ you do?" 

"A lot of things. If I was charging you would you still take me up on it?" 

"No. I don't pay for sex," Han says simply. 

"Oh, of course you don't. My mistake," Cassian says dryly. Han rolls his eyes. 

"Hey, how old are you?" Han asks.

"Does it matter?"

"A bit, yes." 

“Twenty. It’s a little late to ask, don’t you think?"

“I’m twenty-six. And no. I don’t,” Han says simply. "This way.” He starts toward the landing field and suddenly pausing. “But I have one condition, and I’m warning you ‘cause I like you. Do not insult my ship.”

“I would never,” Cassian says simply. Han nods and starts walking again.

*

Something warbles loudly when Han closes his ship’s boarding hatch. Han laughs. 

"Nothing for you this time, sorry pal," Han calls. He leads Cassian through his ship as if they do this every day. Maybe Han does - though he seems a touch too fragile to be doing this with any frequency. Han rounds a corner and Cassian follows, only to find a Wookiee sitting at a table playing a hologame.

"Hey, Chewie. This is Cassian. Cassian, Chewbacca." 

Chewbacca rolls his eyes and grumbles something. He clearly doesn't like Cassian, but his disapproval is more directed at Han. 

"Please, Chewie, don't be rude," Han turns to Cassian, "you don't understand Shyriiwook, do you?"

"No."

"For the best. He never really has anything nice to say." 

Chewbacca warbles something quietly and returns to his hologame. Han unbuckles his blaster belt and leaves it on the bench next to Chewbacca. 

"You can leave your blaster if you want," Han offers. Cassian doesn't move. Han shrugs and nods for Cassian to follow him down another corridor. 

"Han," Cassian begins, voice more hesitant than he would like, but Han doesn't seem to notice as he turns back to face him, "you're clean, right?" 

"Of course I am," Han says, and then chuckles, a bit incredulous. "You don't think me and Chewie - "

"I've seen a lot," Cassian says simply. Han snorts and shrugs. 

"I'm not that desperate. No offense to Chewie, of course. And he's clean, too, as far as I know," Han keys open a door. "I'm not his type, anyway." He says it like it's practiced. He opens the door with his knee. Cassian steps into the quarters after him. 

Han turns on a light, kicks some clothes out of the way on the floor. Cassian shakes his head. He's still thrumming with frustration and too much unsteady energy - he hates what killing does to him almost as much as he hates killing - and wants to simply get off and get it over with, but something about Han's messy quarters endears him. 

"Do you want to clean up a bit?" Han asks. 

"Sorry?"

"You're looking a little beat up, is all," Han says. 

"Does it bother you?" 

Han blinks and the faintest color rises up his neck. 

"No." 

"Then I'm fine," Cassian says.

*

Cassian looks around, looks at Han, his dark eyes unreadable. His arms are crossed and he steps closer to Han, close enough that Han can feel him there without touching him. Han’s eyes flash away from Cassian’s for a second, and in that second Cassian leans up and kisses him hard on the mouth. Not what Han expected from this, not something he’s used to from the men he brings back with him, but he decides that it’s good. Cassian's mouth is soft and Han hasn't been kissed in some time, so he kisses back, probably too eagerly.

Han lets his hands fall to Cassian’s hips and Cassian pushes him back toward his bunk. Han is surprised at the way Cassian's build translates under his hands. He's softer than Han expected - his hips are soft, almost girlishly so, the kind of slight plushness that will evolve into scrawniness within a couple years. Han breathes a laugh through his nose. 

"What?" Cassian asks. Han's hands are at Cassian's waist, stationary. 

"Nothing," Han says. Cassian doesn’t respond, just tugs at Han's belt. Han lets him undo it, backs up against his bunk until he can feel it at the back of his legs. He waits for Cassian to undo his belt and tug his pants partly down, then sits down on his bunk and pulls Cassian down with him.

It’s frantic and frustrated, but Han doesn’t mind. Cassian is pushy and gets what he wants even without words, and Han is content to be pushed so long as he can push back - something Cassian seems to welcome. The kid is angry about something, probably just the leftover buzz of having killed a man or whatever had bloodied his knuckles. Han feels like he's being used somehow, but he doesn’t really mind. But it’s over quickly, and Cassian lazily lifts Han’s arm from his chest and slips out of the bunk, cleans himself with a rag Han hands him.

“You can clean up here, if you want,” Han offers lazily, voice low. Cassian is already tugging on his pants, the fabric sticking to tacky skin. 

“I will at my own ship.”

“Alright.” 

“My shirt is behind you,” Cassian says. Han fishes for it on his bunk and hands Cassian his shirt, watches him button it with his bruised fingers. 

“Are you allowed to tell me what happened?” Han asks. 

“What?”

“Your hands and your face. What happened?” 

"He caught on," Cassian says simply. Han wants to ask for more - the speculation is bouncing around his brain like blaster fire - but Cassian has his boots on and is standing back up. "I can find my way out." 

"I can show you," Han says, “Don’t want to alarm Chewie." He hastily pulls on his pants and keys open the door. He leads Cassian out in silence, careful to avoid Chewie in the main hold. 

"Thank you," Cassian says at the hatch. Han bites back the sudden urge to ask where to find him. 

"Yeah, yeah. Hope it was worth it." 

"Wasn't it?" Cassian winks, and steps into the night. 

* * *

5 BBY, Stenness

Chewbacca nudges Han's elbow. The cantina is loud but he still quietly warbles to Han that the tiny man he liked so much on Tatooine is standing at the bar. Han rolls his eyes, but after a week of sulking over a lack of work, he wouldn't mind being excited about something. Chewbacca says, with no suppressed teasing and annoyance, that Han should go talk to him. 

"I don't get attached to Rebels," Han says simply.

Chewie chortles and tells Han that it's too late. Han rolls his eyes again, regrets that Chewie can read him so easily. Han will admit that - though he wasn't thinking of Cassian often - he still wondered in too many dark cantinas if he might come across Cassian's sharp face. He gets up out of his seat and weaves through the daytime crowd. 

Cassian looks the same, save for a shorter haircut and a barely-there scruffy beard. 

"What are the chances?" Han leans against the bar behind Cassian. Cassian turns to look at him, expressionless, and then turns his entire body to face him. "Hardly recognized you with the..." Han says, scrubbing his hand over his own face. The scruff suits Cassian, makes him look like he's grown into his face more than he has. 

"But you recognized me." 

"If you were trying not to be recognized then I can go," Han offers. 

"No, no," Cassian says, and he looks away from Han. "Do you make a habit of sneaking up on people?"

"Not usually. Are you working?" Han asks. 

"No. And I assume you aren't, either, with all the tightening up the Empire has done." 

"Sure, yeah. The tightening up thanks to you all."

Cassian rolls his eyes. 

"If it wasn't us it would be someone else. If you want to put your skills to better use with us then I can arrange that," Cassian says. 

"How about just with you?" Han asks. He kicks the toe of Cassian's boot. 

"You are very bold," Cassian says, and watches Han's face. "How about my ship this time?"

"Sure, sure. Anything you want. 

"Desperate, eh?"

"Never," Han says. Cassian snorts. 

Han throws a wave to Chewbacca and follows Cassian through the crowd and into the street. 

"Chewie was actually the one who pointed you out," Han admits, just for the sake of saying something. Cassian looks surprised, like he’s holding back a laugh.

"And here I thought you liked me," Cassian says, knocking his shoulder into Han's. "I saw you first." 

"And here I thought you liked me," Han echoes. "Were you gonna come over?" 

"I was deciding on it when you snuck up on me," Cassian says. Han laughs. 

*

Cassian keys open the boarding hatch of his ship. Kaytoo’s metallic voice comes echoing through the hold. 

“Cassian?” Kaytoo inquires, though he already knows it’s Cassian. Cassian holds back a smile. 

“It’s me.”

“You brought company,” Kaytoo says, coming around the corner with his hulking form. 

"Hold on. You've got a KX unit? What kind of Rebel are you?” Han asks, one hand twitching for his blaster. Kaytoo notices, Cassian sees it. Cassian holds up both his hands, one palm facing each of them.

"My name is K-2SO,” the droid says. “I was reprogrammed, and I am an Imperial unit in appearance only."

"We aren't so different, K-2SO,” Han says, lowering his hand to his side. Cassian looks at him with what he can feel is too-visible confusion, but Han doesn’t notice. 

"Cassian, don't you think you could do better?" Kaytoo asks. 

"Do you not have a filter on this thing?" Han asks Cassian. 

"Cassian seems to like me the way I am," Kaytoo says. 

"I do," Cassian tells Kaytoo, taking Han's forearm, "but not right now.”

“You like me the way I am, or you think you could do better?” Kaytoo asks. Cassian stammers - prays Han doesn’t notice that either - and lets out an exhausted huff.

“I don't think he likes me," Han says softly.

"He's like that with everyone," Cassian says, pushing a hand under the back of Han's jacket as he opens the hatch to his own cramped quarters. 

*

“Are you always this angry?” Han asks. Neither of them have even caught their breath. Cassian grumbles and looks up from where his face is buried in his arm, his sweat-dampened hair hanging in his eyes. He can feel his skin staring to stick to Han’s where they’re pressed together on Cassian’s narrow bunk. 

“What?” 

“It’s like you’re taking something out on me,” Han says. He says it lightly, like he’s not committed to the conversation.

“I’m not. Does it bother you?” Cassian asks. There’s something in him that feels exposed. He tries to control the embarrassment in his voice. 

“No, Han says. Cassian puts his face back in the crook of his arm. He knows better than to fall asleep, but he can rest. He can feel Han’s hand twitching on the skin of his back.

"What's your real name?” Han asks suddenly, thoughtfully.

Cassian laughs. Han shifts onto his side, his brows furrowing.

"What's funny?” He asks, and Cassian is almost amused by the frustration clear in his voice.

"My real name is Cassian," Cassian laughs into his arm. "I knew you would assume it was an alias but I did not think it would go on this long." 

"Oh, get outta here," Han groans, shoving at him halfheartedly. Cassian shifts to his side and holds tightly to Han and the bunk. He tugs gently at Han's hair, pulls him in for a kiss. 

"Even Kaytoo calls me Cassian,” Cassian says against Han’s mouth.

“I guess I'm just an idiot."

"It doesn’t bother me," Cassian says, and kisses him again. Han shoves at him lazily again but gives in.

* * *

4 BBY, Ogem 

The scrap vendor is visibly frustrated with Han, sighing and re-crossing her arms every few minutes, staring at him heavily whenever he asks after a part he needs. The _Falcon_ ’s spare part supply is dwindling and Chewbacca insists that they shouldn’t leave the Western Reaches without replenishing it. He warbles behind Han about the difficulty of the vendor, how Han should hurry up because she could easily put him on his ass. Han looks at him with annoyance.

“Is he talking about me? If you’re going to talk about me then you can be on your way,” the vendor snaps. Han straightens up from where he had been leaning over some parts and puts his hands on his hips.

“I’m sorry, do you think you’re really worth talking about?” Han asks. He feels Chewbacca trying to lead him away but holds his feet in the rocky ground. 

“You’re about to lose a whole lot of parts, pal,” the vendor says, pulling the parts back toward her over her makeshift table. “You spacers are all the same."

“You know what? I don’t want your parts if you’re going to disrespect my friend like that,” Han snaps, and lets Chewbacca finally lead him away. 

There are eyes on them from around the different scrap stalls. Chewbacca reminds him that no other vendors had their parts and lightly smacks the back of his head. Han opens his mouth to defend himself but Chewbacca pulls him aside between vending stalls.

“What, Chewie?” Han asks. Frustration is rising in his chest. Chewbacca points across the way and Han sees an Imperial KX unit towering above the heads of the milling spacers. Han groans. “Oh, no.”

Chewbacca says that they should go. Han keeps watching the droid. It moves differently from other KX units - docile and lumbering. 

“Hold on. This might be good,” Han says. Chewbacca makes a questioning sound as Han takes off toward the unit. In its shadow, negotiating calmly with an ancient looking vendor, he finds Cassian. Han waits behind Kaytoo until Cassian tucks the small bag of parts into his pack and turns around. 

“Han?” Cassian asks as he looks up. 

“Hey, kid, how are you?” Han asks. Cassian keeps walking and Han tries to slow him down before he turns the corner. Cassian looks at him warily. 

“Cassian, I don’t think his intended inquiry is about your well-being,” Kaytoo blurts out. Cassian and Han sigh together. 

“No, listen,” Han says, “he’s right. I need help. Do you have time?”

“I do,” Cassian says. He puts his hands in his jacket pockets and looks up at Han. 

“Cassian - “ Kaytoo starts.

“No, Kaytoo, not now,” Cassian says. “What do you need?”

“I just need some parts. The vendor and I aren’t exactly agreeable. It’s a long story. I’ll pay you, can you just get them for me?” Han feels a blush rising in his face that he doesn’t understand. Cassian seems to contemplate it.

“Yes,” Cassian finally says. Han digs his credits out of his pocket and shoves them into Cassian’s hands, points him toward the vendor who is now arguing with someone else. He lists off the parts he needs, probably going too fast.

“I’ll remember that, too,” Kaytoo says. Han looks at him.

“Thanks,” Han says stiffly. Interacting with droids is not one of his few strong suits. 

“You are welcome,” Kaytoo says simply. 

“I’ll be right back,” Cassian says, and turns to go, Kaytoo following him at his odd, smooth pace. 

Han motions for Chewbacca to come over and join him. Chewbacca does, asking him what he’s doing to that poor boy now. Han ignores him, picking at his fingernails. Cassian returns with a net full of parts that he holds out to Han, nodding a greeting to Chewbacca. 

“You owe me,” Cassian says, the corner of his mouth twitching. Han feels the air suddenly leave his chest. Chewbacca makes an annoyed sound. “Where’s your ship?”

“The eastern landing field. Fifty-four.” Han says.

“Mine too,” Cassian says with an easy wink, and he turns to go. 

*

Cassian finds the Millennium Falcon without trouble and Han lets him in, trying to downplay some kind of eagerness. He offers Cassian a drink though he only has one bottle. Cassian accepts it, sits down at the hologame table. He comfortably indulges Han in the push-and-pull conversations that Han seems to initiate as some sort of test, some half-intimate and half-fearful engagement. 

"Alright, so tell me this," Han begins, passing their shared bottle back to Cassian. Cassian raises his eyebrows and sighs, leaning back in his seat. "Do you like women?" 

"No," Cassian says simply. "Do you?"

"Yeah. Does that change anything?"

"You asked,” Cassian shrugs. Han looks around, chews his thumbnail. 

"Fest isn't a good place for that, is it?" Han asks. Cassian's eyes fall to the table. “Corellia wasn’t. Not where I was, on the ground."

"There are worse places. And there are better. But it didn't matter," he says, "I joined the Rebellion young. There were bigger things to worry about, but they don't really care." 

"And now they just use you?" 

Cassian tries to breathe the tension out of his shoulders. Han’s abrasiveness, as much as Cassian has come to expect and even be amused by it, still catches him off guard sometimes. 

"They don't use me. It rarely factors in. If I need to use it to my advantage then I do. I have a job and I do what I have to do. You should understand that." 

"I don't think it's the same." 

"The only difference is that I have a reason for it," Cassian says. Han’s foot has been placed firmly between Cassian’s feet under the hologame table for the better part of the conversation. Cassian stands up.

“Where are you going?” Han asks, concern lacing his voice. It won't kill him to think he might have pushed something too far, Cassian thinks. 

“I need to get back before Kaytoo decides I require his assistance,” Cassian says. 

“I’ll walk you,” Han offers.

“It’s alright,” Cassian insists with no investment. He can push and pull, too. 

“I’ll walk you,” Han repeats, “please.” 

“Alright,” Cassian gives in. Han gets up and shouts to Chewbacca that he’ll be back at some point, eventually. Chewbacca warbles something back and Han rolls his eyes. 

“Lead the way,” Han says. “I owe you, anyway."

*

They barely make it into Cassian’s cramped quarters with the hatch shut before Cassian has Han’s vest off and Han is pushing Cassian’s shirt up.

Cassian wonders why he keeps doing this, wonders why Han keeps doing this. Han is largely unexceptional in bed - if Cassian were being polite about it, otherwise he would simply call him lazy - and difficult to talk to. But he's a familiar face, and one that keeps cropping up just when Cassian thinks he’s forgotten him.

Cassian tries to avoid getting involved with other Rebels - their minds are always elsewhere and Cassian finds he can’t stay interested himself. Han, as foolish and troublesome as he is, is a rare and pleasant break from it. 

Cassian can’t completely bury the guilt he feels over it.

Han pushes him gently onto his bunk and Cassian decides to stop thinking. 

*

"You must have looked ridiculous in an Imperial uniform,” Cassian says. It comes out before he can stop it. Han quickly and clumsily withdraws his hand from where it was combing through Cassian's hair, props himself up on his elbow and looks down at Cassian. 

"What? How did you find out about that?" 

"It's my job to find things out,” Cassian says. He had really only glanced at Han’s spotty history, quickly realizing he really didn’t want to know the details. 

Han is silent. Cassian watches him think. 

“I thought I wasn’t a job,” Han finally says. 

“You’re not,” Cassian rolls onto his back and sighs. Han does the same, their arms pressed tightly together, skin too warm and sticky. Cassian is too aware of how close he is to slipping off the bunk. 

"It was a stupid uniform," Han admits. "I hated it."

"How did you end up in it?" 

"I thought it was the only choice I had. Happens to a lot of us." 

Cassian says nothing, just stares at the ceiling. Han sits up. 

"Now hold on. You were out there looking me up somewhere. You were thinking about me." 

"I think about a lot of things," Cassian says, "and it pays to know who I spend my free time with." 

"I don't look you up," Han says. Cassian shrugs. 

"You know everything you need to know about me,” Cassian says. 

*

Han wakes up from a half-sleep with Cassian curled against him on the narrow bunk, his knees against his chest. One of Han's hands is wrapped loosely around Cassian's ankle. When he moves his hand Cassian stirs awake, muttering something in a language Han doesn't recognize, blinking himself awake in a state of unguardedness that likely doesn't show its face very often. Han is just as startled as he is warmed by it.

"You need to leave soon," Cassian says quietly.

"I do?”

"Yes. I need to go." 

"Where?" 

"Back to base."

"Duty calls,” Han says dryly.

Cassian closes his eyes again and pushes his forehead into his side of the pillow. Han strokes his hair once. Cassian's breathing slows and Han closes his own eyes, relieved to not be forced out immediately, relieved to get a little more sleep in Cassian's much more comfortable bunk.

"You could come with me," Cassian says quietly. Han opens his eyes, but Cassian hasn't moved.

"I don't think so," Han says. Cassian wouldn’t have said it if he thought Han would agree. Cassian sighs. Han could say something snide, he could pick at Cassian for conflating himself with the Rebellion so strongly, but he doesn't. It would get him ushered out of Cassian's ship sooner than he would like, and Han isn't about to waste the comfort of a warm and familiar body next to him.

* * *

3 BBY, Coruscant

Han hates Coruscant’s refinement. It has its thrills, it avenues for work and pleasure and crime, but it reminds him too much of Corellia and what Corellia is not. He hates the residue of the Empire that seems to drip down the buildings and hang in the air. It does not stop him, however, from taking a job for some young lady aristocrat who collects hokey artifacts and wants assistance. So he stays in Corellia, counting down the days before the job starts, and from there they days until he gets paid. 

Chewbacca suggested getting a room or two somewhere for a change of pace, but Han knows better than to leave the _Falcon_ alone for the sake of leisure in a place like Coruscant. They take turns puttering through the streets and cantinas and clubs. 

Han, in a bored stupor, gets caught up in a gambling game that he doesn’t fully understand but somehow keeps winning - with a man whose money he knows he should not be taking. His clothes are too pristine, his hair too neatly groomed. 

The man gets frustrated when Han wins a sixth round and gets up so fast from the table that the pieces wobble. He hauls Han up by his arm and starts interrogating him, pulling him toward a back door. Han isn’t listening to his words, too busy babbling that he doesn’t understand the game and didn’t mean to win, that he’s just killing time. Based on the grip on Han’s arm, Han could easily overpower him, but he would prefer not to. He’s not trying to kill anyone and get himself out of a well-paying job. The man kicks open the door and pulls Han outside, the cool Coruscant air a shock from the stuffy warm air of the casino. 

The man shoves him against the wall but suddenly makes a choking sound and falls to his knees and Han’s hand flashes to his blaster. A young woman emerges from the shadows in the alley, a stun gun in her hand. She doesn’t look at Han, just checks the man’s eyes and binds his hands together, picking up his slight form and throwing him over her shoulder with a grunt. 

“Do you need help?” Han asks, mostly wondering if she’ll acknowledge his presence at all. 

“No,” she says simply. He nods.

“You already helped enough. Somehow,” a voice comes from Han’s other side and he turns to a familiar face. Cassian looks surprisingly different with his hair combed back off his forehead. 

“You again?” Han asks. Cassian looks to the woman and nods to release her. She starts down the alley, the man’s dead weight tilting her gait to one side. 

“You did my job for me, so thank you,” Cassian says. “Less time I have to spend on this lousy planet."

“What?”

“You’re practically a Rebel at this point, Han,” Cassian winks. Han groans. “Can I buy you a drink?"

Han sighs, holsters his blaster. 

“Yeah, sure.” 

*

"Do you sleep with your marks often?" Han asks, his voice gravelly. Cassian sighs into the crook of his arm and rolls onto his back. It’s nice, he realizes, to have room to roll over on a bed instead of squeezing two men into a narrow ship’s bunk, and equally nice that Han stays exactly as close to him in a full bed as he does in a bunk made for one. Even if the bed is in some cheap, cluttered room that he’s been living out of for five days. 

"Why? Do you think you're a mark?" Cassian asks.

“No. If I was you wouldn’t like me so much. And I have nothing to offer anyway."

"Mm. You're right." Cassian closes his eyes, throws his arm over his face.

"But do you?"

"Like you?"

"Sleep with your marks."

"It happens sometimes," Cassian says, "just part of the job."

"Do you like it?" Han asks. Cassian uncovers his face and stares at Han for a long moment, waiting to see if he comes to a conclusion himself. True to form, Han stares back and says nothing.

“No. It's just a job,” Cassian says, and then laughs. “Imperial men are no fun anyway."

"Oh?" Han pushes himself up on his elbow and looks down at Cassian. 

“They have some…interesting preferences. I don’t enjoy it. And Imperial men have very soft hands. Too soft." Cassian picks up Han's hand and runs his fingertips over the callouses on his palm. "Rebels have hands like ours." 

Han scoffs. Cassian lets go of Han's hand and Han rests it on Cassian's stomach. Cassian looks up at him. 

“You're more of a Rebel than you think. Contributing to the Rebel effort as we speak, in fact," Cassian says. 

"How?" 

"Morale." 

Han laughs once. 

“Imagine the /morale/ if I saw you more often,” Han says.

“If you saw me more often you wouldn't like me.”

“What does that mean?”

“You know what it means,” Cassian says, “you like me because I’m a novelty to you.”

“Well - “ Han starts, but Casssian pulls him down for a kiss He desperately wants him to stop talking. 

“I don’t really care,” Cassian says. Han falls onto his back and sighs. The perpetual fleshy pout of his face is so much more present in private. Cassian sighs and lazily pulls Han up and closer to him, kissing him again. Han balances himself on his knee, planted on the mattress between Cassian’s legs. 

“If I ever give up and join the cause I’ll make sure you’re the first to know,” Han says, his hair brushing Cassian’s forehead. 

* * *

2 BBY, Marquinn

It's the first time Han has seen Cassian truly look like a grown man. He’s leaning over a table talking to someone in the orange-lit casino, his dark eyes focused in his conversation and not noticing Han. His face has finally narrowed, his scruff filled in. His build is still petite, but finally adult. He looks like a man who still doesn't smile much, and that sinks Han's heart deeper than is comfortable. 

Cassian finishes the conversation with a stern look and rises to walk away, looking over his shoulder as he walks straight into Han’s chest. Han laughs and Cassian steps back, his mouth twitching.

"You look good, kid," Han says. 

"I'm sorry, who are you?” Cassian moves as if he’s going to walk past him but Han catches his arm.

“Are you working?”

“Not right now."

“Then don't play games," Han says. "I haven't seen you in a while." 

"Not that you're counting," Cassian says. "Do you think about me when I'm not around?" 

Han is surprised by the question. It's something Cassian would usually let slip groggily in bed with his eyes still closed. The kind of question he asks to get Han to shut up, not something he would say aloud in public after a year apart.

"Sometimes." 

"That's good enough for me," Cassian says. “What are you here for?”

“Work, the same as you,” Han says. Cassian rolls his eyes.

“I bet your work doesn’t get you a room, though,” Cassian says. He shakes Han’s grip from his arm and this time he manages to slip past Han. He’s already paces away by the time Han swings around to shout after him.

“Is that an invitation?”

“Why don’t you find out?” Cassian calls over his shoulder. Han blinks and trots after him, weaving through the crowd. 

Han catches up to him, turns him around by the arm to face him.

"You think you can just bump into me somewhere and snap your fingers and have me just like that?" 

"Can't I?" Cassian asks plainly. Han's vision swirls a bit.

"You don't even tell me where I can find you any other time," Han says. 

"Han, I would if I could," Cassian says. “Are you coming with me?"

Han wants to say no to prove something, but Cassian is standing so close to him that Han can smell him, watching him with waiting, knowing eyes.

"Yes," Han admits his inevitable defeat. Cassian nods and turns again, and Han readily follows him. 

*

“These are strange coincidences, aren’t they?” Cassian says into the dim light. Han is still awake, his breathing is still light. 

"Almost makes you want to believe in that Force garbage," Han says. His fingers card through Cassian's hair for the hundredth time. Cassian props himself on his elbow and looks down at Han. He can see just enough of him in the dim silvery light from the window. 

"You don't?" 

"No. Why would I? The invisible powers of the universe - or whatever - have taken me nowhere. Look at me.” And Cassian does look at him. He realizes not for the first time - but for the first time with clarity and sympathy - that Han is not entirely happy underneath all his cockiness. 

“Maybe it's still taking you somewhere," Cassian offers. 

"Then it had better hurry up," Han huffs. "Don't tell me you believe in that garbage." 

"You never know," Cassian says. Han groans and lays a heavy arm over Cassian, shifting closer to him, Han's cooler skin warming against Cassian's. 

"I'm going to sleep," Han murmurs. Cassian locks one of his ankles between Han's and closes his own eyes. 

* * *

1 BBY, Tatooine 

Han whirls around as a body crashes into his side in the street. 

“Hey, watch yourself - " 

"Han?" 

"Cassian," Han tries to hold back a smile but it threatens his eyes and he knows it. Cassian blinks as if he's surprised. “Where are you going?”

“I have to go. I’ll try and see you later,” Cassian is pushing past him, the recognition gone from his eyes. Han grips his shoulder.

“Can I help?” Han asks.

“You? No. I have to go. Now,” Cassian shakes Han’s hand loose from his arm and takes off again, glancing over his shoulder but not at Han. He vanishes down an alley and Han sighs. 

“That’s fine, that’s fine, I have places to be anyway,” Han mutters to himself, carrying on to meet Chewbacca at the cantina.

* 

Chewbacca is explaining a job to Han, something about some dishonest politician looking for accompaniment. Han is half-listening, fidgeting with his holster at the table, trying his hardest not to wonder if Cassian will actually try to find him. Chewbacca notices and warbles something about Han being lazy that he waves off. Chewbacca curses at him and gets up, leaving the main hold. Han switches the hologame table on. 

Chewbacca lumbers back into the hold and asks Han if he was expecting anyone, that someone is outside. Han gets up too fast, nearly blushing at himself, and edges past Chewbacca, who curses at him again and says he’ll just play holochess by himself instead. 

Han nearly jumps down from the loading dock. Cassian is standing on the ground, clearly surprised at Han’s promptness. He's moderately disheveled by Han’s standards, which is extremely disheveled by Cassian's standards. His eyes are glittering with fatigue.

"How are you?” Cassian asks.

"Are you alright?" Han asks over the top of him. Cassian laughs stiffly.

"Yes," Cassian says, "just tired. I haven't slept in a while. It’s a long story, it doesn’t matter now.”

“Sure, sure,” Han says. He keeps his hands in his back pockets to keep his hands to himself. “Do you want to come up?” 

Cassian nods and shrugs. Han holds back a smile and steps back for Cassian to walk ahead of him up the ramp. 

“What?” Han asks.

“Nothing. It’s good to see you."

*

"I need to leave," Cassian says quietly, slipping out of Han's bunk before Han can protest. Han blindly gropes for him but Cassian is already tugging on his clothes.

"Are you ever gonna stick around someday?" Han asks. He turns up the lights. 

"I will when you do. So," Cassian tucks in his shirt, "when dewbacks fly." 

"Oh, I could work something out." 

"To stay?" 

"To get a dewback to fly." 

Cassian rolls his eyes. 

"If you were going to stick around you would have stuck by now," Cassian says. Han avoids his eyes. Cassian sits down on the bunk again to pull on his boots.

"If sticking around didn't mean getting caught up with the Rebellion then I'd have done it by now." 

"You talk, Han, but we both know what side you’ll be on when the time comes," Cassian says. Han waves him off. “And the time is going to be sooner than you think.”

Cassian moves to stand, hesitates, and leans over to kiss Han softly on the mouth, risking falling back into bed with him. The longer he lingers the more the odds increase of letting slip that he has a bad feeling. The anxiety is sparking in his chest like wires have been cut.

"I'll see you," Cassian says as he stands up.

"Do you know the way out?" 

"Yes. Good luck," Cassian gets up 

"I don't need it," Han says with a grin. 

"I do," Cassian says simply, and he gives Han one last nod as he slips out the door to the crew quarters. He pads through the _Falcon,_ even his steps somehow sounding apologetic. He gives Chewbacca a brief goodbye in the main hold as he passes through.

He keys open the boarding hatch and steps down into the grey-orange light of the rising suns and warming Tatooine air. The anxiety crackles in him again, but it's not something Cassian has time to be hindered by. The sand shifts under his feet.

"Hey Cassian," Han's voice comes from behind him, sounding far away. Cassian turns. "Good luck. I'll see you." 

Cassian nods and raises a hand. Han waves once, ducks his own head, and Cassian turns back around.

* * *

0 BBY, Tatooine

The cantina is buzzing about a battle, a planet destroyed, lives lost on all sides. Han is trying to put the pieces together from what he overhears. Flurries of names and ships and planets are in every sentence - Rebellion names, Imperial names, in-between names. He recognizes very few of them from broadcasts and bounties. Over his shoulder behind him he hears, in the unrelenting flood of names, one name that he knows too well. 

Han stands up quickly enough to unsteady the cantina table and draw a few eyes, shoving past people as he forces his way outside. Chewbacca warbles in confusion behind him. He steps outside into the sweltering dry heat and vomits. Chewie is standing behind him, he can feel it as strongly as he feels his throat burning. 

"What?" Han asks, not turning around.

Chewbacca warbles something inconclusive. Han expects something snide but, he supposes, Chewbacca knows better than that. Han wipes off his mouth and straightens up, angrily trying to suppress the shakes in his knees and shoulders.

"I'm going home," Han says. Chewie nods and follows Han's tentative footsteps back to the _Falcon._

The _Falcon_ 's hatch closes and Chewbacca pulls Han into an embrace. He fights it, pushes against Chewbacca's chest, but gives up and accepts it. Chewbacca warbles something indiscernible and Han grumbles as if he understands. Han disentangles himself from Chewbacca's arms. 

"Back to work tomorrow, Chewie. We gotta find a paying way outta this place. I don't wanna be here much longer," Han says quietly. "I'm going to sleep." 

**Author's Note:**

> imagine if i actually wrote sex scenes! sorry for not doing that. maybe someday.
> 
> catch me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/thehubbins) or [ tumblr](http://hubbins.tumblr.com) if you want.


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